Ruby Shadows (Born to Darkness #3)(13)

“You won’t have to…not all at once,” he murmured, still giving me that intense, burning look that made me feel naked. “Didn’t I tell you I prefer a slow seduction, Gwendolyn?”

“You…you did say something like that.” I wanted to look away from his burning gaze but somehow I couldn’t. Under my fuzzy bathrobe my nipples were suddenly so tight they ached and there was a heat growing between my thighs that was hard to ignore. I crossed my legs more tightly, glad I was on the far side of the couch from him.

“Therefore, we will take things step by step. Little by little you will give yourself to me. You will open to me slowly but you will open.”

“But will you make me…will I have to sleep with you…in the end?” I could barely get the words out.

Laish gave me a lazy smile. “That is for me to know, mon ange. But I promise that if we do make love, it will be because you want to, because you are aching with need—so tormented with unfulfilled desire that you cannot help yourself. And then you will give yourself gladly.”


“You’re delusional,” I scoffed—or tried to. My words came out as more of a squeak. “You think this is some kind of victory? Forcing an unwilling woman to have sex with you?”

“Firstly, I have not said that we will, in fact, have sex, as you put it. And secondly, you will not be unwilling. In fact, you’re not unwilling now.”

Suddenly he was sitting right beside me—so close I could feel the heat of his big body radiating against my side.

“Ma cher,” he murmured, caressing my cheek softly with his knuckles. “So beautiful, so untouched. I cannot wait to taste and pleasure you. To hear the soft sounds you make when you come for me.”

“I…you…” Somehow the words wouldn’t come out. “I’m not…I don’t want…”

“Yes, you do.” His voice was soft and low. I wanted to pull away from the gentle touch of his hand but I found I was frozen. “I can smell your lust, my darling,” he murmured, still stroking my cheek. “It perfumes the air around you no matter how tightly you close your thighs.” He inhaled deeply, his eyes never leaving mine. “How I look forward to breathing you in, tasting your sweetness right from the source.”

“Y-you can’t,” I stuttered. “I’ve never—”

“But you will,” he assured me in that low, gentle voice. “We will together, one slow step at a time. And if we do finally make love, you will enjoy yourself to the fullest, I promise you that.”

I opened my mouth to reply but just then my Grams stalked in, wearing the twin of my own fuzzy bathrobe only hers was green. She had a frown on her face and her arms were crossed over her considerable bosom. I couldn’t tell if she had heard Laish or not.

“Grams!” I said, jumping up and smoothing down my bathrobe guiltily.

“Gwendolyn,” she said, glaring at me. “Just what is going on here, young lady? Who is this man and what is he doing here in the middle of the night?”



Chapter Six

Gwendolyn





Grams was really not happy to hear where I was going and who I was going with. And by really not happy I mean completely pissed off.

“You’re not going,” she said, glaring at me. “You’re not going and that’s final, young lady.”

“Grams,” I said patiently. “You don’t understand—I have to.”

“I do understand. I understand that you’re talking about going into Hell—Hell, Gwendolyn—and you’re going with a demon you called up from the pit.”

“Actually I live in the part of Hell the ancient Greeks termed Hades,” Laish said blandly. “It’s quite scenic—I even have a lovely pomegranate tree in my front yard.”

“Oh, you think you’re so smart, young man,” Grams snapped. “I know exactly what you’re trying to say.”

“What?” I demanded. “What is he trying to say?”

“The food in Hell,” Grams said. “You can’t eat any of it. Can’t drink anything there either.”

“What? Why not? What does that have to do with where he lives?”

Laish tksed. “Not up on your mythology, Gwendolyn? The story of Persephone and Demeter? The way the God of the dead stole the lovely Persephone away and she was forced to stay with him six months of the year after eating six pomegranate seeds?”

“That’s a myth,” I protested. “A story the Greeks made up to explain why we have summer and winter. Nothing can grow in the winter because Demeter, the Goddess of harvests, is grieving for her daughter Persephone while she is forced to stay in Hell. In summer when she’s allowed to go back, the whole world blooms.”

“There are seeds of truth—you should pardon the pun—in every myth, mon ange,” Laish said. “Your grandmother is quite right—you must not eat or drink anything while you are in Hell or you will be forced to stay there which I know you do not want.”

“Well what am I supposed to do?” I asked blankly. “I’m assuming this is going to take more than an hour or two.”

“To journey through the seven circles of Hell will take at least a week—maybe a bit more,” Laish remarked.